


this little thing called life.

by bugheadsblueandgold



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Betty Cooper Loves Jughead Jones, Character Death, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Grief/Mourning, Jughead Jones Needs a Hug, Jughead cries in this one, Non-Sexual Intimacy, One Shot, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Child Abuse, Sad, Showers, soft!Jughead, this is a sad one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24241528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bugheadsblueandgold/pseuds/bugheadsblueandgold
Summary: Jughead gets bad news and gets drunk to deal with it. Lots of soft!Jughead and caring Betty.
Relationships: Archie Andrews/Veronica Lodge, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 7
Kudos: 71





	this little thing called life.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is for Caroline (@ctrlreinhart on Twitter, she's the sweetest), because she tweeted about Jughead being the little spoon and I came up with this because of it. Enjoy! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated xx

Betty hummed softly as she cooked dinner, content as she heard Jughead’s fingers hit the keyboard of his laptop at their kitchen table. Their apartment was moderate sized; an old fire station turned apartment building. Nevertheless, for the city, it was huge. Their little neighborhood in Washington Heights was peaceful, never particularly quiet, but always calm, despite the man who would play the saxophone in the early hours of the morning by the subway station going downtown. She took the pan of lasagna out of the oven, setting it down on the counter before she felt strong arms around her frame and his mouth on her shoulder, kissing her from behind. 

“Please tell me there are no carrots this time. I hate carrots, Betts.” 

“You need vegetables, Juggie!” 

“Bettyyy!” he whined, laughing softly against her. 

“Oh, shush. Now go set the table while I finish up.” 

“Yes ma’am!” he salutes her before going to get the plates, setting them down on their small table. 

“Mm, Betty, if there is one good thing that came out of your mother’s fucked up version of parenting, it was this.” 

“I agree. She may not let me have a lot of it, but my mom can make a damn good meal.” 

“Seriously, if you weren’t a kickass journalist at the Times, you could be a chef.” 

“And here I was, thinking you were dating me for my personality.” He pokes her in the rib and she giggles as he pulls her onto his lap. 

“I mean, your personality is definitely the biggest factor, but there are a few other reasons that come to mind…” his hand trails up her leg and she kisses him, running her hands through his hair until her phone rings. 

“Mm,” she pulls away, checking to see who it is. “Oh, speak of the devil. It’s my mom.” She gets off of Jughead’s lap, picking up the phone as Jughead puts their plates in the sink. “Mom? What’s up?” Her mother is crying hysterically, making it hard to understand what she’s saying. “Mom, what?” her mother continues, gaining her composure, and tells Betty the news. “Oh my god. Okay. I have to call you back.” Tears are forming in her own eyes as Jughead looks at her quizzically. 

“What happened? Everything ok?” 

“Jug…” she steps forward toward him, putting her hand on his cheek. “FP’s been in an accident.” 

“Oh my god, what? Is he at Riverdale General? I’ll get my keys if you-” 

“Juggie,” she interrupts, “He didn’t make it.” 

“What? What do you mean?” 

“He was walking across the street and there was a drunk driver who didn’t stop at the red light…” Jughead looked at Betty, and then at the floor before stepping out of her hands, rushing toward their bedroom. He comes out with a jacket and his wallet, putting his shoes on. 

“Jug, what are you doing? You shouldn’t just leave right now-” Jughead bolts out the door and the door slams shut, making Betty jump. 

It’s only after a dozen calls and texts asking where he is that she breaks down and cries. 

Despite FP and Jughead’s troubled relationship throughout the start of high school, by the middle of junior year they had become closer, FP having gotten his act together, and Jughead giving him one last chance. FP had been welcomed her into his home when living with her mom had gotten to be too much, had given her hugs on days when Jughead had gone away to Stonewall Prep, and made sure she fought for Jughead; made sure she wouldn’t let go of the boy she loved. The boy who loved her back the same way, but was afraid of showing it. Betty thinks about how he was the last father figure in her life that she had left. 

She straightens herself out, going back to thinking about Jughead. She wonders where he is, if he’s okay, if he’ll ever stop trying to run away. Nevertheless, Betty washes her face and changes into a fresh set of clothes, the ones she had been wearing feeling somewhat like a weight on her shoulders. 

She calls Archie, first, imagining that if anybody else would know where her boyfriend was, it’d be him. 

Veronica and Archie lived on the Upper West Side in one of the Lodge apartment buildings. She remembers Archie refusing to live there until he saw the view of the city that they got like it was yesterday, and they were all about to go into their senior year of college. Veronica at Barnard, Archie at Fordham, and Betty and Jughead at Columbia. It had been a dream come true, to be so close to each other. 

“Betty? Hey, what’s up?” 

“Hey, Arch. Uh, Jughead hasn’t come by, has he?”

“No, why? Is he not at your place?”

“FP died,” Betty blurts. She hears him tell Veronica the news, and she leans against the island, tapping her foot.

“Do you want us to come over?” Veronica asks, letting Betty know she’s on speaker. 

“No, that’s okay. I’m gonna go look for Jughead, he bolted out of here as soon as he heard.” 

“I’ll meet you,” Archie tells her, “Please don’t argue with me on this one, Betty.” 

“Okay. Thanks, Arch.” 

They look around for about an hour before it starts getting cold, the air turning crisp.

“Betty, you should go home. I’ll keep looking.” 

“No, Arch, you don’t have to-” 

“Someone needs to be there when he gets home. If I can’t find him in another hour, I’ll call you, okay?” She nods, giving her best friend a hug. She thanks him and heads home, her fingers becoming numb from the winter season that’s seemed to start taking over the city, everyone beginning to turn on their heating and always bring a hat and gloves when they go out. Betty thinks back to the first snowstorm that had caused a city wide blackout, leaving Jughead and Betty in the apartment eating cold pizza and cuddling for warmth until their super could get everything working again. Delivery in the city, it seemed, was always available, no matter the circumstances. 

She sits on the couch watching reruns of The Office after calling her mother. It’s about 10:45 when she hears a knock at the door, causing her to bolt straight to the door. 

“Hey, Betty,” Archie’s holding Jughead up, who seems like he’s about to fall over. “I think he hit up a couple bars. He was about to get kicked out of one when I showed up, and he puked on the way here. Do you want me to set him on the couch?” 

“Yeah, that’d be great. Thank you, Arch.” Jughead stumbles over to the couch with Archie’s help, and Archie tells Betty to call him in the morning before he leaves. 

“Bettyyy!! Your hair is reallyyy golden. ‘Minds me of that movie… y’know… with the chameleon. What’s his name? Picasso?” Jughead slurs as he falls against a pillow. 

“Pascal?”

“YES! That is the one! You are one smart cookie. Do we have any cookies?” Betty rolls her eyes and giggles at his drunken state, then figures he could use something to sober up, and gives him some crackers and a trash can. He slumps over the trash can while eating, crumbs falling into the bin. He hiccups and Betty knows what’s about to come, and she sits down beside him and holds the trash can in one hand, rubbing his back with the other as Jughead lets out the contents of his stomach. It seems to sober him up a bit, and Betty knows he should shower. He reeks of alcohol, and she doesn’t really want to get into bed with him smelling like that. 

He lays against the floor as Betty heats up the shower before she has him stand upright so she can take his clothes off, him leaning against her shoulder for support. She helps him into the shower, shedding her own clothes as well so she can help him wash off. Betty’s thankful for the bathtub styled shower that they have, giving her more space so she can use a loofah to rinse the smell off his body. He sits on the floor of the bathtub as she squeezes shampoo into her hand, and he takes a deep breath, starting to regain his senses. 

“Betty?” he looks up at her as she tilts his head back, rinsing the shampoo from his raven curls. She meets his teary eyed gaze, and he looks like the same boy she fell in love with at 16, vulnerable and scared - something he only let her see in the confines of her pastel pink bedroom, when he would wake up after having nightmares after getting attacked by the Ghoulies. 

“Yeah, bub?” 

“I don’t wanna turn out like him.” She knows he’s referring to the old FP, who came home drunk in the middle of the night, leaving Jughead to take care of him. The FP who used to throw plates and forget to pay the bills and buy groceries. The FP who would give Jughead bruises when he lost his temper. 

“I won’t let that happen.  _ You _ won’t let that happen.” he nods and she presses a kiss to his forehead, finishing up and turning off the water so she can get him into bed as quickly as possible. 

Betty wraps him in one of their fluffy towels that her mother brought them when they first moved in, the ones they usually give if they have guests. She makes sure he changes into pajamas before getting into her own, having him get under the comforter before going back into the kitchen to get Advil and some water, knowing his hangover’s gonna be nasty in the morning. When she returns, Jughead’s sitting up, staring into space. 

“He’s dead. I’m never gonna see or talk to him again. He isn’t gonna get to move Jellybean into college, or walk her down the aisle. He’s just… gone.” A tear slips down his cheek and Betty moves his head with her hand to face her side of the bed. 

“Baby…” He looks at her teary eyes and he finally breaks down, trying to sob quietly before Betty wraps him in her arms, letting him get everything out. When his tears start to subside, she pulls them under the covers and turns off the lights, his head against the crook of her neck. She feels droplets of tears fall from his face to her shoulder, and she runs her fingers through his hair, hoping to calm him down a bit. 

The tears eventually stop but she doesn’t let go, holding him closer, even, as his breaths start to even out. She doesn’t know how long it’s been, she thinks he may have fallen asleep, until he whispers to her, “I still loved him. Despite everything.” 

“I know, Jug. I know you did.” His breathing soon gets deeper and Betty closes her eyes, ready to hold his hand tomorrow and all the days after that. It won’t be easy, but she’ll take some of his weight and carry it on her own shoulders so he knows he doesn’t have to bare it alone. 


End file.
